


we are for each other

by DuendeJunior



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Very Brief Mentions of Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 11:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15266709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuendeJunior/pseuds/DuendeJunior
Summary: “I think it’s over,” Yuuri sighs. He should get up and open the door, either to get out or to let Victor in, but he feels drained. He can also hear scratching sounds – Makkachin has come to investigate too.“Do you need me to do anything else, love?”Yuuri smiles a little at the endearment, and rubs at his tired eyes. “Can you get me another shirt?”A sleepless night in Yuuri and Victor's life.





	we are for each other

**Author's Note:**

> title from e. e. cummings' _since feeling is first_  
>  many thanks to [Addy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrianna99/pseuds/Adrianna99) for proof-reading this, [Kaleigh's work](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocoloki/pseuds/pocoloki) for inspiring me to finish this one and the entire [WeWriteVictuuri](http://wewritevictuuri.tumblr.com) server for all the help and encouragement. you guys rock

Yuuri’s chest hurts like he’s been punched right on his diaphragm and his mouth tastes _vile_ , but at least now he feels his stomach empty and light, which indicates he’s expelled everything that wanted to get out of his body. He barely manages to flush the toilet before slumping backwards, all too aware of how his shirt sticks to his back thanks to the sweat.

He can’t wait for the side effects of his new anxiety meds to leave him alone.

He wipes his forehead in his arm, and takes deep breaths.

After a few moments of silence, a light knock comes from the locked bathroom door. “Yuuri?” Victor’s worried voice asks.

“I think it’s over,” Yuuri sighs. He should get up and open the door, either to get out or to let Victor in, but he feels drained. He can also hear scratching sounds – Makkachin has come to investigate too.

“Do you need me to do anything else, love?”

Yuuri smiles a little at the endearment, and rubs at his tired eyes. “Can you get me another shirt?”

“Will do,” Victor says, and walks away from the bathroom door to retrieve what Yuuri’s asked of him – he’s on socks and barely makes any noise. Yuuri turns his head a little and the only thing he can see is Makkachin trying to shove her nose under the door. He crawls there and turns the key in the lock to let her in.

When Victor comes back, Makkachin’s draped all over Yuuri in an approximation of a hug. The bathroom tiles are still quite uncomfortable, but he’s loathe to move and disturb her.

“She’s glad you’re alright,” Victor says above him.

“I’m glad she’s here.” _I’m glad both of you are here_ , he thinks, scratching behind her ears and kissing her curly head, a bit distracted.

“Do you think it was the cookies?” Victor asks from somewhere above him.

Yuuri looks up, still petting Makkachin. “Huh?”

“Those granola cookies I insisted for you to try out,” Victor says. “We haven’t eaten anything different besides from that, and you’re not used to them like I am. Maybe it didn’t agree with your stomach.”

Yuuri has to squint to really see him, but he recognizes the tense line of his shoulders.

“I’m sure it’s the meds,” he says with a shrug. “The doctor told me it was a possible side-effect and it was going to wear off over time.”

Now it’s Victor who says, “huh”.

Yuuri extends an arm towards Victor. “Help me?”

Victor gives Makkachin a nudge and she leaves to see if the bathtub has any new secrets to uncover. He grabs Yuuri’s hand, and helps him get up with a grunt. Now that Victor’s face is closer, Yuuri can see the stubborn pinch between his brows. He wants to soothe it. He also wants to bury his face in Victor’s chest and sleep for the rest of the month.

It would be better to do both things after changing to a clean shirt and without feeling like something has died in his mouth, however.

He makes an indistinct sound, which Victor somehow understands, as he instructs Yuuri to raise both of his arms. Victor wipes his back, his neck and his brow with the old shirt before helping him change into the new one, and hands him his glasses when he’s finished dressing.

“I just need to rinse my mouth now,” Yuuri says, relishing the brush of soft, well-worn fabric against his skin.

“I’ll be waiting in the kitchen,” Victor says. “Do you want Makkachin to stay here?”

Makkachin looks up at them from her spot – she’s almost inside the bathtub by now.

“Yeah,” Yuuri says. “Come here, girl.”

Makkachin trots up to him, and Victor says something about tea before leaving him to his devices.

After brushing his teeth, Yuuri takes off his glasses for a moment to splash some water in his face. His chest doesn’t hurt as much as it did minutes ago, and when he looks in the mirror before heading to the kitchen, he feels more centered.

That’s when he notices Victor gave him one of his own sleep shirts – an old gray thing from an ice show he’d been a part of six or seven years ago. He pulls the collar up to his nose and senses the fading traces of Victor’s smell.

The warmth he feels now doesn’t come from their heating system only.

Yuuri heads to the kitchen with a shy smile tugging at his lips, Makkachin trailing right behind him. He finds Victor sitting at the countertop, nursing a cup of tea – peppermint, judging by the smell. There’s something in his hand, and he’s examining it intently: it’s the packet of cookies they had talked about.

“Thank you for the shirt,” he says, sitting down on the stool next to Victor, close enough for their thighs to brush. He notices his new favorite mug – a housewarming gift from Mari – is already over the counter, filled with tea, and he brings it to his lips to take a grateful sip.

“You didn’t want me hovering over you in the bathroom,” Victor says, still playing idly with the plastic wrapper in his hands. “I get that, and I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me draped all over you afterwards. But I wanted to give you a little comfort, so...” He trails off.

Yuuri smiles at him. And that’s when he notices Victor isn’t meeting his eyes.

“Vitya?” He asks.

Victor doesn’t answer. Yuuri sighs.

“Is it the cookies?”

Victor makes an unhappy noise. The plastic wrapper crunches under his fingers. “I’m not buying these again.”

“Vitya. I know you love these cookies.”

“Not if there’s a chance they made you sick.”

Yuuri puts the mug down and lets his head fall forward. He should stop forgetting Victor is his match when it comes to _sheer stubbornness_.

“Vitya,” he tries. “You hate those octopus-flavored chips I bought at the airport in Nagoya, right?” Out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri sees Victor making a displeased face at the mention of said chips. “And yet you still keep some in the pantry for me. I don’t see how that’s any different from me not eating your granola cookies.”

Yuuri covers Victor’s hand with his, entwining their fingers.

“I wanted to share them with you. I wanted you to like them,” Victor says. His hand is a bit chilled under Yuuri’s palm. “God, that sounds very silly when said out loud.”

Yuuri’s chest aches again, now for a different reason altogether.

“It’s not,” he says. He moves his stool, wanting to be as close to Victor as possible, and only winces a little at the sound of the metal legs scraping loudly against the floor. He plants a kiss on Victor’s jaw, over a tiny cluttering of moles he absolutely adores. “We’ll find something else.”

Victor makes a tiny sound, and Yuuri kisses him again and again and again… Until his stomach reminds him, with a loud grumble, he still has a cup full of tea to finish.

He downs a mouthful of it. By now, it’s gone from pleasantly warm to lukewarm. “… Ugh”.

This time Victor finds in himself to laugh at him.

“Maybe we should try that Maccha Green Kit Kat Mila was raving about,” Victor says, refilling his cup. “Sounds appropriate.”

“Sounds like Makkachin, too,” Yuuri says.

“Why do you think I chose it?”

Yuuri smiles at him over the rim of the cup.

“You have the best ideas.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> let's talk yoi and other things on [tumblr](http://everymanwillbeaking.tumblr.com) (or [twitter](https://twitter.com/misguidedLight))


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